By the Book
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Daryl/Beth.. AU - no zombies. There were rules for the staff of the high school and one of them was a particularly big one. No dating between staff members. No nothing. So, she couldn't even have a hot, meaningless one-night stand with this man in front of her even if they both wanted it.
1. Chapter 1

I always try to write a different version of Beth and Daryl in each new story and try something that I haven't tried before and this story will be no exception. I hope you enjoy the first chapter. Thank you!

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…

 **Chapter One.**

When the Starbucks was built in town the year before, Beth Greene knew she was in trouble. She was a coffee addict and everyone – her family, her students and especially herself – knew it. She always had a thermos with her when she walked into her office in the morning from a pot she brewed every morning in her kitchen and in the afternoon, when the thermos was empty, she would choke down the sludge in the staff lounge that could hardly be considered coffee at all, and even though it was lukewarm and reminded her of mud, it did the trick in giving her the little kick she needed in the afternoon to get through the rest of her day.

To say that their town was small was the easiest way to describe it. Another was by saying that it was in the middle of nowhere. And both were reasons as to why it was shocking that Starbucks would actually choose it for their newest location. They had no other chains. Everything was independently owned except for the Wal-Mart, but that was forty miles away, two towns away. So when the new building in their tiny downtown district began construction and the "Coming Soon" sign was staked into the ground, Beth nearly drove off the road when she saw the glorious word. Starbucks. Starbucks coming soon. Here? In their town? And it wasn't a joke?

No, it definitely wasn't a joke. Now, Beth made a thermos of coffee in her kitchen every morning and then every day, for her lunch break, she left school and went straight to Starbucks. She knew it wasn't a healthy habit. Not to mention that it was an expensive one, but in her opinion, she only lived this life once and she was perfectly fine living it being completely addicted to coffee. She also felt a duty to help keep that Starbucks in business.

Beth took her lunch break at twelve-thirty every day, closing and locking her office for a half hour and walking the five blocks from the high school to the Starbucks, her tongue already tingling in anticipation with the cup of coffee that she was minutes away from getting.

Her heels tapped on the sidewalk as she walked, saying hello and smiling at everyone she passed, everyone greeting her in return. Seniors were permitted to leave campus for lunch and as she passed Rhee's Pizza Parlor – owned by her brother-in-law – Beth saw, through the large front window, many of her kids sitting at the tables inside, taking advantage of the all-you-can-eat pizza lunch buffet. Some saw her and waved at her and she smiled and waved back. Maybe she'd stop in for a quick slice on her way back.

It was a beautiful day in Cherry Hill, Georgia – population 3500 – with the warm sun shining down from a clear blue sky with not a single cloud in sight. And Beth was certain that the beautiful day aided to the good mood she was already in.

She absolutely loved this time of year because while the temperatures were still high, clinging to summer, she could also taste fall in the air, just around the corner. A new school year had begun three days earlier and she already had more than one senior come to her office, and even some juniors, ready to discuss potential colleges to apply to and Beth was more than ready for them. She had a bookshelf in her office, crammed to the hilt with college binders and folders of information from all over the country. Not every person was made to go to college, but Beth was determined to help every student she was responsible for – all 350 students in the Cherry Hill High School – find something that could fit their future perfectly. Most of her students always stayed in state, but she had had a few get scholarships to schools all over the Southern states, and she had one student two years ago go off to USC in California. And many of them, when back home on break, would come by the school to visit with her and let her know how their college experience was going.

And that made Beth happier than anything. Maybe even happier than a cup of coffee.

The door dinged as she pulled it open and stepped within the cold confines. There were a couple of other people sitting at the tables and no line at the counter. Beth strode right to it without looking up at the menu.

"Tall mocha Frappuccino, please. No whipped cream," she ordered, already pulling her wallet from her purse. She handed the money over once being given the total and they didn't take her name because there was no one else waiting for a drink.

As she stood, waiting for her coffee, Beth's eyes slid over the others that were in there. Andrea Harrison, a lawyer, was sitting at a table with her laptop open in front of her, and across from her, there was a man who looked like he might have been one of her clients. Cherry Hill was too small for a courthouse and every legal case was held in the next town over, Peachton, but Andrea was from here, and after being in Atlanta and even D.C. for a few years, she had come back and her office was here because, in her correct opinion, people in little towns needed lawyers, too.

And at the table near the back, Beth saw a man sipping a cup of coffee as he looked over a book open in front of him. She recognized him within a second as Daryl Dixon, the new history teacher at Cherry Hill High School. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to speak with him past the introductions that were made last week during teacher orientation. She knew that this was his first teaching job, but other than that, she knew nothing about him.

He was a handsome man. Beth took notice of that the first time she saw him last week, when the staff came together after summer break. He was older; if not already forty-years-old, he was about to turn it. Teachers were permitted to wear jeans – _nice_ jeans – and she saw that he wore a pair today along with an untucked green button down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. She did her best to not let her eyes linger on his tanned arms and the visible muscles. His hair was dark and a bit long and his face was scruffy with unshaven hair, but he wore it all well.

"Here you go, Beth," the worker behind the counter said with a smile, handing Beth her cup of cold coffee, and Beth wondered if she should be concerned that she was already on a first-name basis with the staff here, but of course, she wasn't.

Beth went to the trash can, throwing out the paper wrapper encasing her straw and as she dunked the green straw through the hole in the lid, she couldn't seem to stop her eyes from returning to the man sitting in the back of the shop. She wondered if she should go say hello. After all, they were coworkers and as the guidance counselor, it was important for her to know the teachers and have good relationships with them since their students were her students. There was nothing wrong with her wanting to go up and say hello to the newest teacher at the school.

But Beth kept herself away. She didn't want to bother him. He was probably relishing in his lunch break away from the school for a half hour and she didn't want to impose upon him and ruin his peace and quiet. She'd make a point to stop by his classroom and reintroduce herself after the final bell today.

With her mind made up and pleased with her decision, Beth left the shop, taking her first sip of coffee through the straw and practically moaning as it hit her tongue and slid down her throat. Today was such a wonderful day.

…

Beth had never had dreams of becoming a high school guidance counselor. It had never been something she had even thought about or considered when she was younger. All she had wanted to do was play her guitar up on a stage somewhere and hadn't made plans for herself past that. And for a while, she had been able to do just that, but in the end, it wasn't the path she was meant to be on.

It was her older sister, Maggie, who told her that she would be an amazing counselor for kids; helping them figure out stuff that, at that age, they had no clue as to how even begin approaching. Since Beth had had no other plan, she thought it was a good one and went to college to get her degree. A few years had passed and she had been a guidance counselor for three years now and Maggie had been right. Not only did Beth absolutely love what she did, but she found that she was really good at it.

She had a small office off the main hall with a window that overlooked the courtyard where students went out to eat their lunches when the weather was welcoming enough and unless her door was closed, any student was welcome at any time.

When she returned from her lunch break, Frappuccino almost gone from the plastic cup, Beth smiled and greeted each student she passed as she headed towards her office. Her nameplate that said ELIZABETH GREENE with GUIDANCE COUNSELOR beneath that was bolted on the wall next to her door and on the door, there was a handmade name sign hanging that one of her art students last year had made for her as well as bumper stickers from every college her students had gotten admitted into taped to the door. The janitor would have killed her if she actually stuck them to it.

She unlocked the office door and no sooner had she sat down behind her desk that there was a knock. She smiled when she saw that it was Joe Morales, Cherry Hill's football coach.

"Hi Coach," Beth smiled at him and then gestured towards the empty chair on the other side of her desk. The slightly heavy-set Hispanic man immediately lowered himself down and took off his red Cherry Hill Pirates baseball cap, his fingers scratching across his forehead.

"Need a favor, Beth," he said.

"That was fast," Beth said with a slight laugh in her voice. "You usually wait until the second week of school before you come in here, asking for favors."

The man nearly smiled before he caught himself and seemed to remind himself that he was here on business. "I need you to talk with that new history teacher," he said.

Beth couldn't help but be surprised, her eyes widening slightly at the request. "Mr. Dixon? Why?"

"Clarence has come to talk with me. I guess it's the third day and Mr. Dixon has already given his classes a quiz. You need to talk with him," Joe said again.

Beth caught on immediately and this time, she frowned at him. "You know I won't do that. You know your football players need to study and do their work if they want to remain eligible to play. I'm not going to tell the teachers they need to pass them."

"I'm not asking you to tell the teachers to pass my players," Joe said as he sat up a little in his seat and leaned forward, closer to the desk. "I just need them to know that… well, there's always been an understanding from the teachers about this."

Beth sighed. This was one aspect of her job that she didn't agree with and never would. Joe was right. They didn't out right ask the teachers that they make sure the football players always passed their classes, but it _was_ understood that the teachers should do everything they could do to make sure that the players remained eligible.

She knew it was Georgia and football was oftentimes far more important than academics and even in Cherry Hill, for being so small, their football team had always been good and the school board was determined to keep them that way.

If Joe didn't ask her to do this, Beth knew that Principal Grimes would come in here to discuss it with her sooner rather than later. Lori Grimes didn't necessarily agree with it either, but her hands were tied when it came to what everyone else wanted.

Beth sighed softly. "Fine. I'll speak with him after school today," she agreed.

Joe grinned and stood up. "Thanks, Beth." He put his baseball cap back on and left the office, whistling to himself; as if he had just accomplished something truly great.

Beth sighed again as she turned towards her computer. This wasn't exactly what she wanted her first conversation with Mr. Dixon to be about. Hi, Mr. Dixon. Welcome to Cherry Hill High. We're so happy to have you. Could you please give special treatment to all of your students who are on the football team? Thank you so much.

She picked up her plastic cup and leaning back in her chair, she finished the last of her coffee and did her best to enjoy it.

…

Cherry Hill High School was a two-story square brick building and when the town had first been established, it had housed all twelve grades. But as the town grew, an elementary school and junior high were all built as well. The school dated back to the early 1900s and was the only one of the three schools to not have air-conditioning – something all of the students and teachers liked to gripe about no matter how many fans a classroom had.

The history rooms were located on the second floor and Beth waited for the final bell of the day to ring and the students to flood out the doors before she left her office and climbed the stairs upwards. Mr. Dixon's classroom was located down the west hallway, room 205. She walked towards the open door and stopped in the doorway, seeing him standing at the chalkboard, erasing something he had written. He saw her from the corner of his eye almost immediately and turned his head to look at her. She gave him what she hoped was a warm smile because now that she was close to him – the first time since last week that she had been – she felt a fluttering in her stomach that made her feel like an idiot.

"Hello, Mr. Dixon. I'm Beth," she said, stepping into the classroom with her right hand outstretched in offering.

Mr. Dixon set the eraser down and wiped his hands on his jeans before stepping forward, meeting her right hand with his own. "Ms. Greene," he said with a nod of his head and even though it was a small school, she couldn't help but feel surprised that he had remembered who she was. "Wha' can I do for you?"

She noticed how rough his voice sounded and yet, there was a gentleness to it and she wondered how the man managed to have both at the same time.

"Beth, please," she remembered herself and continued smiling.

"Then 'm Daryl." he said and she felt herself able to smile a bit easier now.

"Daryl," she repeated as if she was testing how the name felt on her tongue. "Do you have a moment? I need to speak with you about something."

"Am I in trouble?" He asked.

"Oh, goodness, no!" Beth quickly assured him. "And even if you were, you'd be seeing Lori to come here to talk with you, not me."

"A'right," Daryl said with a single nod of his head. "I'll 'member that. So what do _you_ need to talk with me 'bout?"

Beth exhaled a sigh. "Something I hate," she admitted to him and she wondered why she had. She turned and returned to the door, closing it, before looking back to him. "So… I heard you gave a quiz already."

Daryl's brow furrowed a little and she knew that he was probably wondering how on earth she knew that. She didn't blame him for wondering that.

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "Assigned 'em to read somethin' on the first day and I wanted to quiz 'em to make sure they actually did."

"What was it?" Beth asked, unable to help but be a little curious.

"Booker T. Washington's "Atlanta Compromise" speech," he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his desk behind him, keeping his eyes on her, waiting patiently for her to let him know what this was all about.

Beth remembered learning that from her own history class – but in college, not in high school; given in 1895, a strategy of black response to southern racial tensions and was widely regarded as one of the most significant speeches in American history. And now, Beth felt even more uncomfortable having to talk with this man about what she had come up here for. And Joe better bet his butt that she would talk with him next about why his players had a hard time being quizzed over something that was so important. She'd be sure to question Clarence about it as well. A young black man living in Georgia needed to learn history like that.

She looked at the man in front of her and she was _not_ going to think about how good looking he was and how she would probably have a hard time concentrating if she was a student and this man was her teacher. He wasn't handsome in the conventional way, but there was a rough-and-tumble look to him that she very much liked. And that was surprising to her because all of her previous boyfriends had definitely been clean-cut and had looked nothing like Daryl Dixon.

It didn't matter, of course, that she found him to be good-looking. She could think so in the privacy of her mind, but she would never be able to speak it out loud. There were rules for the staff of Cherry Hill High School and one of them was a particularly big one. No dating between staff members. No nothing.

So, she couldn't even have a hot, meaningless one-night stand with this man in front of her even if they both wanted it.

Beth felt the back of her neck flush from just _that_ thought.

"Coach Morales came to speak with me earlier," Beth began. "He's our football coach and he…" she found her words trailing off when she saw the smirk slowly spreading across his face. "What?" She asked him.

"Nothin'," Daryl shrugged. "And he wha'?"

Beth looked at him for another moment; looked at that smirk. "You already know," she then guessed and didn't know if she felt relief that she didn't have to tell him or awful that she had to come up here to tell him at all.

"Teach more than one of 'em and they were all bitchin' when I handed the quizzes out."

"They're good kids," Beth was quick to defend them and it was true. They were all good kids in this school – whether they were athletes or not. "They really are. The players have just gotten used to receiving a certain treatment from teachers."

Daryl was quiet for a moment, letting that roll around in his head. "No offense, Ms. Greene, but that's bullshit," he said and she was shocked – only for a moment – at the language. She hadn't been expecting that.

"I completely agree," she nodded. "And I hate that I had to come talk with you about this." She was fidgeting with her fingers and realizing this, she forced herself to stop. She hung her hands at her sides, curled into loose fists.

"Then why did you?" He asked, and his head was tilted ever so slightly to the side as if genuinely curious with her response.

Beth shrugged. "Winning football games is important to the school and I'm employed by the school." She sighed. "Therefore, winning football games is important to me."

"And me, too?" He asked.

"I'm afraid so," she gave him a small nod with a matching small smile. "It's just the way it is here sometimes."

Daryl was quiet for another moment, letting _that_ register in his mind. "Thanks for tellin' me," he said as he pushed himself off the desk. He turned and his desk was covered in stacks of papers, but he seemed to find the one he was searching for with ease. He turned back towards Beth, holding the piece of paper out towards her, and Beth stepped forward, taking it from him.

Looking at it, she saw that it was a graded quiz from one of his classes and looking at the name, she saw that it belonged to one of the team's fullbacks. He had gotten a D.

"So, I gotta change that?" Daryl asked.

Beth felt a dryness in her throat. She couldn't ask him to do that and she wouldn't expect him to. What was fair for one student had to be fair for all of the students and Daryl was just trying to do his job and teach his students. It wasn't his fault if some of his students didn't study or do the assignments and how could she possibly ask someone to not do their job? Especially someone who taught high school students Booker T. Washington and history that was actually important to them?

She shook her head. "No. No, you don't." She handed him back the paper. "I'm sorry for all of this. So sorry. Coach always gets me to do this with teachers because I'm the sweet one and I go along with it from a misplaced sense of duty. I.. I'm sorry about all of this," she said again. "I don't agree with it. I really don't."

Daryl nodded at that, but she wasn't sure if he really believed her or not and he turned, placing the paper back down onto one of the piles on his desk.

Beth found herself standing there and although she knew the conversation was over, she had a hard time getting her feet to carry her from the room. She looked at the man and found herself wanting to ask him questions about himself and get to know him. Even if nothing could happen between them, they could at least be friends. There was something about Daryl Dixon that was interesting to her – and it wasn't because he was a handsome man and the school definitely didn't have that many handsome male teachers to choose from.

 _Not_ that Beth was choosing any of them. Against the rules and all of that. And she understood the rule. Coworkers who dated one another led to complications that just weren't needed among the other staff.

She told herself to just leave the classroom, but she seemed unable to physically do it and the longer she lingered, the more she felt her embarrassment grow. She could just imagine how horrible the first impression was he had of her now and that didn't settle right with her, because she wasn't like that. She didn't believe in giving _any_ student – no matter who they were – special treatment and ever since her first day working here, she hadn't believed in it. But, unfortunately, it was just one of those things she had to turn a blind eye to it happening sometimes and hope that the school never got in trouble for it.

Daryl went back to the chalkboard and picked up the eraser to resume what he had been doing before she came in, but he didn't get back to it. Instead, he looked at her.

"Was there somethin' else, Ms. Greene?" He asked.

Beth felt a heaviness in her chest she couldn't explain.

"No. That was all, Mr. Dixon." She did her best to give him a smile, but she knew she was failing miserably at it and she turned, finally able to leave his classroom.

She wished she had talked to him earlier in Starbucks.

…

"Aunt Bethy!"

If there was anything in this world that could get her to smile besides coffee and her guitar, it was her niece, Charlotte.

Three-years-old and the daughter of Glenn and Maggie Rhee, Charlotte had that bright-eyed innocence that almost all children still had at this young age; that the world was a truly wonderful place and always would be. Beth had always been a little jealous of that, but tonight, she was downright envious.

"Hi, pretty lady," Beth greeted her niece as she always did upon stepping into her sister and brother-in-law's house and stooped down to scoop the girl into her arms. She peppered her cheek with kisses and Charlotte giggled.

"Hi, doodlebug," her father, Hershel, said with a smile, pulling himself from the couch in the living room and coming over to greet her as well. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Beth answered and Hershel looked at her, not believing her; and for good reason. "Just school stuff," she then relented but not by much. "Are Maggie and mom in the kitchen?" She asked.

"Get in here, Beth!" Maggie shouted from the kitchen.

Beth smiled as she passed Charlotte from her arms into her grandpa's and walked down the short hallway into the kitchen in the back of the house, where her mom, Annette, and Maggie both were, putting the finishing touches on the dinner they had made that evening. Well, that Annette had made. Maggie had been married to Glenn for four years and in four years, she had been receiving cooking lessons from Annette. And no one would say it to her, but they didn't see much of an improvement. But Maggie being Maggie, she stuck with it no matter how little talent she seemed to have for anything that involved the kitchen and invited the family over for dinner at least once a week.

"Hi, sweetie," Annette said, dusting her hands off and giving Beth a hug. "How was school?" She asked.

"Fine," Beth gave the same answer she had given her daddy and like Hershel, Annette gave her a look because fine was such a loaded answer and they all knew it. Maggie was looking at her, too, waiting for her to tell them the truth and Beth just shrugged her shoulders, swiping a carrot from the counter. She took a bite off and took her time crunching on it. "Just school stuff," she then repeated herself.

She knew she could probably tell them. She had complained about it when she had first gotten the job at the high school and her older brother, Shawn Greene, had played football and they all knew how important football was to Cherry Hill so they all knew about the favoritism sometimes that was bestowed upon them. But Hershel and Annette had made sure that Shawn actually did his work and earned the grades that he deserved. Not every parent of a student was like that.

So, if she told them what had happened today with Coach Morales, they would understand. But she couldn't tell them about the new history teacher, Mr. Dixon. They would find out she was interested in a man and would instantly begin asking her what colors she wanted at her wedding because that's just how her family was.

Anyway, how could she be interested in him? It was against school policy to be interested in him. Besides, even if she was and it _wasn't_ against the rules, it wouldn't matter. He probably didn't think that highly of her anyway right about now. And Beth was doing her hardest to not try and think of why that was bothering her as much as it was.

She knew that it obviously was because she had always had this need to please people and to make sure that everyone always liked her. It was important to her that everyone liked her – even if she knew that it was an impossibility for everyone to like the same people – and Maggie and Shawn, both, had told her to just forget it when she got hung up on someone's thoughts and feelings towards her that she thought were less than savory. But if making oatmeal raisin cookies in elementary school for the bully, Randall, which in turn had gotten him to stop his bullying ways – at least for a bit – had worked, Beth knew she could get Mr. Dixon liking her. At least a little bit more than he probably did right now.

…

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 **Thank you very much for reading and please take a moment to review!  
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	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites on the first chapter. Some of you are constantly supporting me no matter what I write and I can't express just how much it means to me. I've gotten a few messages about the "southern pride" angle I write in stories. Half of my family is from Arkansas and there is such a pride to be from the South, I don't/can't even fully explain it in the stories I write. Also, football in the South is pretty damn serious.

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…

 **Chapter Two.**

Real estate wasn't exactly booming in Cherry Hill, Georgia, but Daryl had managed to get himself a foreclosed house on a quiet street filled with either old people or young families, and it needed a lot of work, but Daryl didn't mind hard work. The previous tenants had known that they were going to be getting kicked out so they had done their best to trash the house before the inevitable and in the evenings, after school and before bed, Daryl would work on one room at a time.

He had a history department meeting the next morning with the other two history teachers in the school. Last week, during orientation, they had sat down together and they had walked Daryl through the curriculum for each grade. Freshmen year, students learned from the time before the Revolutionary War, leading up to the Civil War. Sophomores learned the Civil War – which was probably the biggest unit for any of them. Juniors learned the Reconstruction Era that followed and WWI. And Seniors learned WWII and after. It was a lot to take in – for both students and for Daryl to teach all of it. Mr. Theodore Douglas and Ms. Karen Diaz were welcoming and nice and with their classrooms all clumped together in the same hallway, they both came in often between bells to see how he was doing. Considering it was only the third day, Daryl thought he was doing alright.

At least, he _had_ thought he had been doing alright.

As he painted the walls in his living room an off-white, he thought of Ms. Beth Greene, the school's guidance counselor. He had noticed her last week during orientation. She was a pretty little thing. There was no denying that. She was the kind of pretty that made a guy forget what he was doing for a moment as he looked at her. Way prettier than any of the women in Merle's magazines, that was for sure. And she was young. First time he saw her, Daryl thought she was a student. But then she had stood up and began talking after Principal Grimes introduced her and he sat in his chair, watching her smile and listening to every word. She may have looked like she was barely eighteen, but she talked with authority and experience and Daryl was quick to learn that she had beauty and brains no matter how young she looked.

It wasn't too surprising to him that someone came to talk to him about the football players in his class. He had just been surprised that it had been Ms. Greene. He hadn't expected her to go along with this because, no matter how many times she had told him that she didn't like it, she _did_ go along with it and not that he knew the first thing about her; he just thought that she had been better than that. He honestly didn't know how he felt about it himself. This was his first teaching job and he didn't want to cause waves, but if he gave the football players passing grades if they didn't earn them, he'd have to give everyone passing grades and he wasn't going to do that if they didn't deserve those passing grades. He was amazed the school didn't seem to care about the slippery slope this led to.

He had never thought he would become a teacher, but when he was younger, he knew that he wanted to become _something_ ; something more than any Dixon before him. His family had never cared about school, but Daryl learned when he was still just a little kid that if he wanted to be anything in this world, he had to go to school. And so he went and he never missed a day – even when he showed up with black eyes and split lips and limps in his step from being kicked. Some teachers pretended not to see, but others kept him after class and brought him to the nurse themselves and sat with him as the nurse looked him over.

He never missed a day and he never missed an assignment. As he grew older, as soon as the final bell would ring on Friday afternoons, he'd go home just long enough to grab his crossbow and a change of clothes and he'd go into the woods for the next couple of days. He hunted anything he ate and he knew the woods like the back of his hand and where he could get fresh water. If he wasn't hunting, he'd spend his time, sitting on the ground, leaning against trees and studying.

Sixteen in the state of Georgia was the legal age and as soon as he was sixteen, he went down to the courthouse to get himself emancipated from his old man. And everyone in the county knew Will Dixon and no judge would ever even think of not granting Daryl's request. By the time he graduated from high school – the first Dixon to _ever_ graduate from anything – both his mom and old man were dead and Merle was locked up. But even with no family in the audience, he still could remember the way everyone else watching had cheered for him; everyone knowing how hard he had worked to make himself more than just what his last name was.

He didn't go to college right away. He kept the job he had had in high school at an auto garage and worked the next few years, saving up as much money as he could. By the time he was able to go, he was almost thirty and could only take a couple of classes at a time, needing to keep working and saving his money.

Merle got out around this time and though he had always made fun of Daryl for his book-learning and acting like he was better than everyone else, Merle offered to help him pay for some of his classes. Daryl had refused as nicely as he could though without pissing Merle off. He didn't want to pay for his college with drug money.

History had always been both his best and favorite subject in school. He liked learning about everything that had happened through the ages over so many years. He liked imagining someone like him, someone the books would call insignificant, witnessing all of these things that happened. Becoming a teacher of it just made sense to him and when he finally graduated with his education degree – with a minor in history – he felt like maybe his life had finally started.

Finishing up the wall, Daryl set his roller brush down, done for the night. He had managed to paint the entire room and he still had enough gallons left over to get started on the kitchen and dining room next. But not tonight. Tonight, he was going to get a can of beer from the refrigerator, sit on the couch with the National Geographic channel on the television, and look over the papers he had his sophomore classes fill out.

He had asked them to write what they knew about the Civil War. People not from around here didn't understand how passionate of a topic this was for people from the Southern states. People had pride for it – no matter how it turned out. People still proudly said if they had a relative who fought. Students could discuss the battles for _weeks_ , debating what could have been done differently. There was a reason there was a saying down here – the South will rise again. Everyone every else thought that they were just a bunch of inbred racist hicks who wanted to bring slavery back. And Daryl didn't doubt that there were a number of those, but they weren't all like that. Considering most of the men who had fought in the Confederate Army were just poor farm boys who had never had a slave in their life, it was about being proud where they came from.

Now, as expected, reading through the papers, he saw more than one student mention a family member who had fought and one of them, Jackson, proudly boasted that he was named for Stonewall.

A little after nine, Daryl got himself ready for bed. This was the first place he ever lived in with two floors and he climbed the stairs to the room he had chosen as his bedroom. He knew the house would still be considered small to some people, but to him, he had never had so much space before. He didn't know what to do with it all.

Once he was in his bed, he didn't fall asleep as he expected himself to. Instead, he laid there and thought of Ms. Greene. He wasn't sure why; didn't understand why she was in his mind right that second. One thing was for sure. His guidance counselor in high school had definitely looked nothing like her. He wouldn't blame the boys in school if they went to go talk with her about colleges and their future just so they could sit across from her and look at her.

He was surprised he was thinking about a woman like this. He had never really done it before. Merle had always been the one who had been woman-crazy, always chasing after them and needing at least one on his arm at all time. He had pushed his fair share towards Daryl and had called him gay and Dar-lina more than once throughout their lives, but Daryl hadn't cared because he hadn't had time for it. He was working towards something and he wanted to stay focused on the goal at end. He wasn't a virgin and had been with a few women, but only for a night at a time. He had never had a relationship before in all of his forty years.

And he sure as hell couldn't have anything even looking like a relationship with Ms. Greene. She was his co-worker and according to Cherry Hill High School rules for staff, that was a big no-no. He could lay there and think about her – in the privacy of his own bed, in his own home – but nothing past that could ever happen. This was his first teaching job and he already loved it and Daryl wasn't looking to lose it.

No matter how damn pretty Ms. Beth Greene was.

…

"Okay," Karen said as the three history teachers sat at the small round table in the teacher's lounge, tucking curly brown hair behind her ears. "So, we will move the first test for the freshmen up two days to Wednesday so it doesn't interfere with the JV game," she said and wrote a note to herself in her planner open in front of her.

Daryl made a note to himself, too, joining the others he had already made during the meeting.

"I usually like them to use their books for the first one," Theodore said.

"I know you do," Karen frowned and it was obvious to Daryl that she didn't agree with him on that.

"Eases them into it, Karen," Theodore said with a grin. "Haven't been using their minds for damn near three months. I'm just trying to be nice."

Karen sighed and then looked to Daryl. "What do you think? Open-book test or not?"

Daryl thought it over for a moment. He heard the door to the room open, but he didn't turn to see who it was. And then he shrugged, looking to his fellow history teachers. "Don't see a reason why the kids can't learn about the Pilgrims and Puritans and why they came over here and be tested on it without help from their books," he decided. "We all had to pass the test it without ours."

"Ha!" Karen gleamed in Theodore's face.

Theodore shook his head, but Daryl could see a little smile peeking through. "You're a hard teacher, Daryl. Glad I'm not in your class," he joked and Daryl smirked a little. "Fine. No open book on the first test of the year for freshmen." Theodore made a note to himself in his own planner and Daryl reminded himself to buy one of those of his own. "It's a lot to cram into one school year and can be overwhelming," Theodore told him.

"But you'll get through it," Karen added. "I would feel bad for history teachers one-hundred years from now. Just think about all they'll have to teach." She smiled and Daryl smiled a little in return. Her eyes caught the clock on the wall. "Alright. That's it. Good meeting. And remember Daryl. If you need anything, _do not_ hesitate in getting me or Theodore or both of us."

"Thanks," Daryl said with a nod as they all stood up, their chair legs scraping across the floor beneath them.

He picked up his notebook and pen and teacher's edition of his history book for his first period class – junior history – and turned as Theodore and Karen headed from the lounge. And he saw that when the door had opened, it had been Ms. Greene. Beth. She was standing at the counter, waiting at the toaster, smiling at Theodore and Karen, Theodore teasing her about something that made her laugh, but Daryl didn't hear what it was because if he was honest with himself, he saw Ms. Greene's face light up when she laughed and he couldn't see anything past that.

Then, they were gone, and Daryl found himself alone in the teacher's lounge with Ms. Beth Greene. He wasn't too sure what to say to her. Normally, he wouldn't say anything. He had never gone out of his way to talk to women before and he wouldn't have started now. But, Ms. Greene wasn't like the other women he usually saw; nothing like the women in the bars he went to with his brother.

Her eyes met his for a moment and she gave him a small smile before she looked back to the toaster, two slices of bread popping up a moment later. She picked them up with the tips of her fingers, dropping them onto a paper plate and then going to the refrigerator, pulling out a small jar of blueberry jam.

He felt like he should apologize for yesterday afternoon. It wasn't her fault that the school had some asinine views in regards to their football players. She was just the messenger. No reason to be a dick to the person who was just passing the message from the higher ups along.

But before he could even think of what to say and open his mouth to say it, Beth returned the jar of jam to the refrigerator and then picked up her plate, giving one more look and smile towards Daryl.

"Have a good day, Mr. Dixon," she said in a voice that made him want to shiver and sweat all at the same time and he had no idea how the hell that was even possible.

"You, too, Ms. Greene," he managed to say as she slipped out of the room.

Daryl exhaled a deep breath that had been trapped in his lungs. Today, she was wearing a dark blue dress with little white polka dots on it and her blonde hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck¸ to help with the heat of the school that not even fans could cut through, and all he could honestly think about was taking that polka dress off of her and burying his fingers in her hair.

…

"A'righ'," Daryl said, cutting off the chattering of his students once the bell had rang. They all quieted down and he was met with twenty pairs of eyes. "Who did the readin'?" He asked and not to his surprise, all of the hands went up. Even if they didn't all do the reading, which he suspected was more of the truth, they weren't going to let their teacher know that. "Alrigh'," he said and his eyes glided over the students, whose names he had already memorized. He had memorized all of his students' names on the second day. "Donnie," he said and the quarterback jumped a little in his seat as if he had just gotten an electric shock. "Can you tell me who the Radical Republicans were?" He asked, facing the class and leaning back against his desk, keeping his face blank as the quarterback seemed to squirm in his seat.

He wasn't a dick. He wasn't going to be a dick teacher either. He just wanted to show the football players that maybe he didn't want to play along like the other teachers. Maybe standing up to them will make them actually want to do the work for his class. It was a long-shot, but Daryl was going to give it a shot anyway.

"They were a part of the Republican party," Donnie said and Daryl admitted he felt a little bad because the kid sounded so damn nervous.

"'s right," Daryl said. "What else?"

Donnie took a deep breath and began fidgeting with the corner of the front cover of the closed history textbook on his desk. "They strongly opposed slavery during the war and then after, they hated the Confederates and wanted a lot more harsher punishments towards them. They also wanted civil and voting rights for all of the recently freed slaves."

Daryl didn't mean to be surprised, but he couldn't help it. The quarterback of the football team had actually done the reading and had retained some of it.

"'s absolutely right," Daryl said with a nod of his head and Donnie let out a smile. Another football player in the class, sitting behind him, Clarence, leaned forward in his seat and clapped a hand on Donnie's shoulder. "So, someone else. Who can tell me the names of some of the Radical Republicans?" He asked and smiled a little to himself when a few hands went willingly into the air.

Classes were forty minutes long and Daryl had just assigned the next chapter to be read and the questions at the end to be answered for the next day when the bell rang. All at once, the kids began standing up, gathering their things, talking and shouting to one another as they began streaming from the classroom.

"Donnie," Daryl said his name as he and Clarence headed for the door. "Can I have a second?" He asked. Donnie nodded and then glanced to Clarence, who nodded and headed out of the classroom, and Donnie put his bag onto his back and looked at Daryl, waiting, curiosity open on his face. "Good job today," Daryl told him.

Donnie seemed to instantly relax. "Thanks. It wasn't a bad chapter," he said and Daryl felt himself smiling a little at that. "Ms. Greene got some of us players together this morning before school and had us all read the chapter together."

…

Tracking her down wasn't that hard. Everyone knew where Beth went on her lunch break and he only had to ask Karen before he got his answer. If the other teacher was wondering why Daryl needed to speak with the guidance counselor, she didn't ask and Daryl was grateful because if she did, he wasn't too sure how he would have answered. He only knew that he had been thinking of her all morning and fifth period lunchtime was the first free period he had in the day.

Daryl left the school grounds and began heading down the street towards the Starbucks. He had grown up in a town as small as Cherry Hill. It had maybe been even smaller and everyone there had been pretty much as poor as dirt. There had been a factory in town that had employed nearly everyone in one capacity or another, but it moved out when Daryl was little and it took the money with it. The town barely had anything except for one gas station and a post office. Everything else, they relied on the next town over for their schools, doctors, grocery store, and police and fire departments.

Cherry Hill was small and wasn't even on the map, but it had pretty much everything a town could need. It even had a Starbucks. And everyone – Daryl now included – knew that Ms. Greene had something of a coffee addiction. Apparently, she went to the Starbucks every day during her lunch for an afternoon kick.

Sure enough, when Daryl stepped into the shop, he saw Beth standing in line behind another person, waiting her turn to place her order. She hadn't turned when the door dinged with his arrival and he took the few seconds to look at her backside. Even looking at the back of her head and the way she stood straight and the back of her bare legs, he thought she was pretty. There was no harm in him thinking that. Nothing was going to happen and he couldn't get in trouble just for what was in his mind. It wasn't against school policy to think one of his co-workers was attractive and he doubted that he was the first male faculty member to have thoughts like this about Ms. Greene. Maybe even a couple of the females had thought about her like that. He wouldn't blame them.

As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned then and when she saw him standing there, at the door, looking at her, her eyes widened ever so slightly with surprise. He took that as his cue and he approached her.

"Hello," she greeted politely and she was smiling, but she seemed unsure about it.

Daryl felt like a dick. He hadn't been exactly friendly towards her when she had come to see him in his classroom yesterday afternoon. He wanted to get a hang of this job and this school and be good at what he was doing. He wasn't going to show favoritism to anyone in his class that played football, but at least she coming to see him yesterday made him know that it was something he should be aware of.

"Hello," he greeted in return with a slight incline of his head towards her.

She began to turn away from him once again, facing front, and just as he opened his mouth to say something else, it was her turn and she stepped up to the counter, ordering some Frappuccino drink thing and Daryl had no idea what it was. She stepped to the side and just because he was standing in line – or _looked_ like he was standing in line – Daryl felt obligated to order something so he just got a small cup of regular black coffee.

"Heard you were an addict to this stuff," he commented as they both stepped off to the end of the counter, waiting for their drinks.

He considered it a victory when a small smile bloomed across her lips. She turned then to look up at him and the sight of her smiling made him want to smile, too. His own lips twitched upwards a little.

"My daddy says it's a nasty habit, but I always tell him that at least I'm not smoking," she commented. Her eyes widened again. " _Not_ that there's anything wrong with smoking," she scrambled to say and Daryl couldn't help but smirk with amusement.

"Yeah, there is," he said and then shrugged. "But I've been smokin' for so long now, couldn' imagine quittin'." He paused and then looked at her. "How'd you know I smoke?" He wondered.

Her cheeks noticeably turned a shade of pink. "We seem to get here in the mornings around the same time. I see you on your motorcycle, smoking," she explained.

"Here you go," the worker behind the counter set down Beth's plastic cup and handed her a straw and she set Daryl's paper cup of coffee down next to it.

"You headin' back?" Daryl asked. "Mind if I walk with you?"

Beth shook her head and he found himself to be relieved. He hadn't been sure if she would have wanted him to or not.

She tossed her paper wrapping out in the trash and he pushed the door open for her, letting her step out first and he stepped out behind her. They walked side by side for a couple of minutes, neither talking. From the corner of his eye, he saw the way her lips wrapped around the green straw as she took sips of her cold coffee drink. Daryl made sure he didn't watch her do that. It gave him a whole bunch of other ideas of her lips wrapped around something else and that definitely wasn't following policy.

"Donnie did good in class this mornin'," he said, breaking the silence between them, and Beth looked up at him with a smile across her lips.

"I'm glad," she said genuinely.

"He said that you had some of 'em get together to read the assignment?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes. I had an impromptu meeting in the library before first bell with some of the players. I just wanted to make sure that they did the reading for you."

Daryl didn't know what to say to that. "Thanks," he finally decided on and she gave him a small smile before turning her eyes away and taking another sip of coffee. The walk from the Starbucks back to the school wasn't long at all and they were almost there and as he walked beside her, Daryl felt disappointment at that. It was an odd feeling for him to have – especially when he felt that because he wasn't going to be spending as much time with this woman next to him as much as he would have liked to. "Have you lived here all your life?" He heard himself asking.

"Yep," she smiled and sounded proud of that. "After graduating from high school, I went to Nashville, but I was only there for a few months before I came back."

"Didn' like it?" He asked, curious.

Her smile was gone now and she took a long sip of coffee as if debating whether to answer his question or not. He nearly apologized for prying into her business. He didn't like when people did it to him and he normally didn't do it to other people. Something about Beth though just made him want to find out everything about her.

"It was fine," Beth finally said. "Just not for me."

They reached the school now and climbing the front steps, Daryl reached the door first and opened it for her. She gave him a smile as she stepped past him and he followed her inside. The office secretary, Carol Peletier, was standing behind the counter in the front office and when she saw them enter through the front doors, she smiled at them and Beth smiled and waved in return.

He didn't ask if she was walking to her office or if he could walk with her. He just stayed at her side and went to her office door with her. He stood there as she pulled out a key and unlocked it and then pushed it open, showing her small, clean office. There were college binders and books crammed into the bookcase against the wall, there were papers stacked on her desk in neat piles, and there were three cactus plants on her windowsill.

"Thank you for walking me," Beth smiled up at him.

"Thanks for doin' that with my students this mornin'," he said and the words still felt insufficient, but he didn't know what else to say about it.

Beth just shrugged as if she didn't see it as a big deal and she kept smiling.

"You go to Starbucks every day?" He asked without thinking how he probably shouldn't. It might not be considered a good idea, but it was too late to take back now.

"Yep," Beth smiled with a slight laugh in her voice. "As you said, I'm an addict."

"You mind if I come with you tomorrow?"

He really had no idea what the hell he was doing or saying and going to get coffee with Ms. Greene really would just lead to nothing but trouble, but he couldn't get himself to retract the question. It was just coffee. There was no policy about it being against the rules for coworkers to get coffee together. And Beth was smiling even brighter now that he had asked and he couldn't take it back now that she was smiling up at him like that.

Ms. Greene had to have had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen on anyone.

"I would like that," she said.

"A'righ'," he said immediately as if he thought she would change her mind and he was worried about her doing so. "Have a good day, Ms. Greene."

"You, too, Mr. Dixon," she said, still smiling, and as he turned and headed towards the staircase to go back to his classroom, Daryl could still feel Beth looking at him and smiling. And it made him smile a little to himself, too.

…

* * *

 **Thank you very much for reading and please take a moment to review!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

You guys are the best. Thank you, as always, for your continued support of my writing and my stories.

* * *

…

 **Chapter Three.**

"You're not wearing anything green for game day," Beth pointed out to him once they had both gotten their coffee and had sat across from one another at a table in the back of the Starbucks.

She supposed there was no reason they _had_ to sit in the back. If anyone saw them, they would simply see two co-workers getting coffee together. Because that's all it was. But Beth knew how some of the people of Cherry Hill could be – quintessential small-town gossips – and if they saw her and Daryl sitting together in Starbucks, they would think it was _anything_ but innocent.

"And you're the twentieth person to tell me that today," Daryl responded with a slight smirk after he took a sip of his coffee and Beth nearly giggled as she took a sip of her own drink through the straw. She noticed how he averted his eyes as she did, and once she was done, he looked back to her. "I like your glasses," he then said.

Beth felt her cheeks grow pink at that for some reason and her fingers went to the glass frames on her face at the mention of them. "Thank you," she said with a soft smile. "I was just way too tired to put my contacts in this morning. Are you going to the game tonight?" She asked, making a conscious decision, switching away from what they were currently talking about.

Football was a bit more of a safe topic, in her opinion. Not that she thought she and Daryl needed safe topics. After all, they were just coworkers out on their lunch break, getting coffee together. And talking about her glasses would be about as innocent as conversation topics go, but still, better to be safe than sorry. Not drawing attention to her appearance – no matter how innocent, it seemed – would definitely be safe, in her opinion.

Daryl had just taken another sip of his coffee and he paused to swallow before answering. "I figured it was one of those things I had to do," he said.

"Well, you're not wrong," she smiled and he smiled at her in return.

She felt a fluttering in her chest that she immediately tried to squash down. She was being ridiculous. Yes, Mr. Dixon was a handsome man, but it wasn't as if she had never seen a handsome man before. But that wasn't the truth and she knew it. Daryl was a handsome _man_ and she had known plenty of men in her life, but she had never gotten a feeling in her body that she got around any of them before that she got around Daryl in just the few days since they met. It was as if he was the first true male she had ever been around. And it was because those men had been friends of her parents or teachers or coworkers. _Coworkers_.

That was a whole other reason why Beth couldn't get flutters around Daryl Dixon. He was a handsome man who smiled at her and gave her flutters and made her feel like she always imagined a woman had felt in one of the novels that she read when a handsome man paid attention to her, but he was her coworker and anything she was feeling for him other than coworker feelings went completely against the rules.

She began to think that maybe getting coffee with him hadn't been the best idea.

"So, how do you like the school so far?" She asked, veering towards topics that more or less had to do with their work. _Safe_ topics.

Daryl gave his head a nod. "I like it. Don't have another job to compare it to, but I figure there are worse schools out there to teach at." He sipped his coffee and she was aware that he never moved his eyes away from her – except when she took a sip of her own coffee through her straw. He only looked to her again when she was done. "Wha' 'bout you? Have you been a guidance counselor anywhere else?"

"No," Beth shook her head. "I was very lucky. I went to college and graduated and came back here, ready to begin my job search, but the old guidance counselor was about ready to retire and Lori Grimes and her husband, Rick, have always been good friends with my family and Lori suggested that I apply for the position. It's my third year here, doing this."

"And you like it?"

"I love it," she replied with a smile. "And do you love teaching history?"

"Wouldn' be here if I didn' love it." He leaned back in his chair, coffee cup in his hand. He then shrugged. "Just always loved studyin' it. Always my best subject in school and when I was goin' to college classes, it was the only thing I wanted to study more of. And not that I'm sayin' all kids are the same, but it seems like a lot of 'em jus' have no idea 'bout things. Don't even really care to know either."

"And you want to make them care," Beth guessed with a smile.

Daryl shrugged again, but she could see that he was trying not to smile. He took a sip of coffee and his eyes stared at her from over the rim of his cup. Beth felt like blushing and she wasn't entirely sure why. She didn't know what it was about this man, but he was making her feel gorgeous and she had no idea why. It was Friday – casual day. She wore skinny jeans and her green Cherry Hill Vipers tee-shirt with a black cardigan sweater and along with her glasses, her hair was simply worn down with very little style to it today. She didn't feel necessarily gorgeous that day, but Daryl kept staring at her and she wondered what he thought when he looked at her sitting across from him.

It really hadn't been a good idea, coming to get coffee with him today.

"Can I ask you somethin'? 'bout the school?" Daryl asked.

"Of course."

"Relationships between staff members… why isn' it allowed?"

Beth felt the back of her neck flush though she was quick to tell herself to stop it. He was just asking because he was curious. Nothing more. After all, she knew it wasn't a general rule for other schools and it _did_ seem a bit odd that it was one of theirs.

"Lori and the School Board implemented it a year before I came. You can ask any of the teachers. They love to tell the story. One of the science teachers and one of the English teachers were seeing one another because it wasn't against the rules then. But, when they broke up, I guess it got kind of messy. Public fights in hallways and in the cafeteria, from what I hear."

She paused to take a sip of her Frappuccino.

"Not the most professional way for two teachers to handle themselves in school – especially in front of students. After that, it was decided that it was just easier if teachers kept relationships and work separate."

"Sorry I missed it," Daryl said with a little smirk and she smiled in reply.

They were quiet after that and Beth – reluctantly – pressed the button on her phone sitting on the table, waking it up, looking at the time.

"We better start heading back," she said though she didn't want to say that at all.

Daryl nodded without argument. "A'right." He rose to his feet and Beth followed.

They left the coffee shop and began walking back towards the school, side by side.

"You're very easy to talk with," Beth decided to tell him. After all, it was the truth.

Beth had never had a problem talking with people before, but for a person she had just met a couple of weeks before for the first time, she found herself incredibly comfortable around him for whatever reason that might be. She knew she shouldn't, but she liked very much the idea of spending more time with him and talking with him. A half hour to do so just didn't seem like it would be enough time. And it wasn't.

"I like talkin' with you, too," Daryl agreed and again, she felt a flush on the back of her neck and she told herself to knock it off.

She knew what was going on and it was just not going to happen. It wasn't permitted to happen and even if nothing would happen, it was still stupid to have a crush on Daryl Dixon. Why torture herself with all sorts of ideas and fantasies that could never come true unless she felt like putting the job she loved in jeopardy?

"Would you like to go to the game with me tonight?" Beth blurted out even after that pep talk she had just given herself. "I mean, not go together, but… _sit_ together?" She scrambled to try and cover herself, but somehow, asking him to sit with her at the game was just as bad as wanting him to come to the game with her.

Why was she doing this to herself? The best way to get over her crush on Daryl Dixon was to _not_ spend time with him. Any idiot knew that. She wondered if perhaps she was a self-masochist and didn't even realize it. Why torture herself like this? On the other hand, _why not_ torture herself when a handsome man was involved?

She wasn't entirely sure what his answer would be, but she couldn't deny the relief she felt when he nodded his head.

"I'd like that," he said and she smiled at him, watching him smile a little back at her.

"Great!" She said with a little bit too much enthusiasm and she nearly cringed. "Um, come by my office at the end of day and I'll give you my address. We can meet up at my place and then head over to the field together."

If he was beginning to think that she was a loser, he was hiding it well.

"Sounds good," Daryl agreed.

"And be sure to wear something green," she quickly added, only half-joking.

Daryl smiled at that. He had such a nice smile and there was something about him that made Beth think that he didn't smile nearly enough times in his life.

…

At the knock on her door between seventh and eighth periods, Beth lifted her eyes from her computer screen and turned her head to see who it was.

"Enid," she smiled as soon as she saw the senior standing in the doorway. "Come in."

"I know I don't have an appointment," Enid said even as she sat down in the chair on the other side of her desk, across from her, and Beth waved that off with her hand. "I wanted to talk with you though. I've made up my mind."

And it was silly, but Beth found herself holding her breath at what Enid was going to say. Enid was a talented artist. A ridiculously talented artist and the sculptures she made from the trash she collected from people's bins on garbage pickup day had even been featured once in a story for the art section of the Atlanta newspaper. And starting last year, she and Enid had begun researching art schools all over the country – the top ones being in New York and Rhode Island. Beth had such high hopes that Enid would go off to one of these schools and her art would be seen hanging in museums years from now.

Beth loved all of her students and would do anything to help them realize their future, but Beth knew that she looked to Enid a little differently. She looked to Enid and saw herself. Enid had dreams and talent and everyone knew that she could go far. It was just what they said about Beth before she went off to Nashville.

Enid took a deep breath and exhaled it, as if she needed the courage for whatever she was going to be saying. "Carl's going to Georgia and I've decided to go with him."

Beth couldn't help the disappointment that sank in her stomach. After a moment though, she did her best to hide that from the girl and smiled faintly. So many of her students stayed in-state to attend college – especially University of Georgia – and it was such a good school, but she just hadn't thought that it would be the best fit for what Enid wanted to do with her life; especially since the girl seemed to just be following her boyfriend to wherever he wanted to go. She had only been doing this three years, but she had already seen that scenario far too many times.

It wasn't her place to tell these girls that chances were, their high school relationships wouldn't last much further than that. What did she know? But maybe Enid and Carl were soul mates and would get married and live happily ever after. But, if that was the case, then they could survive with Carl in Georgia and Enid in Rhode Island. Again, though. It wasn't her place. She was supposed to _guide_ the students and let the students come to their own decisions.

"Alright," she managed to say. "At least tell me you'll be majoring in the art program they have there."

"I will be," Enid said with a nod. "I know you're disappointed, Ms. Greene-"

"No, Enid," Beth quickly said with a shake of her head. "No, I'm not. Don't think that for even a second. It is _your_ decision and _your_ life and if you want to study art at Georgia, then we're going to make sure you do just that."

Enid hesitated for just a moment before she smiled, looking relieved. "Thank you, Ms. Greene. I was so nervous, having to tell you."

"Never be nervous to talk with me." Beth turned in her chair and plucked a binder from her bookshelf – one of her more frequently used ones; her University of Georgia binder. She flipped through a few pages and then stopped herself, looking back to Enid. "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

"I have study hall for eighth," Enid said. "And I'd much rather be here."

Beth nodded and then opened up her top drawer, taking out a paper hall pass. She signed the bottom and then filled in Enid's name. "Take that to your teacher to let her know that you're excused from study hall today and then come back. We'll start going over what you need to apply into the art program."

Enid stood up and took the hall pass and her messenger bag. "Thanks, Ms. Greene. I'll be right back."

Beth smiled, but as soon as the girl had left her office, it faded and with a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. She told herself to not feel disappointed. There was no reason for her to. This was Enid's life and this was what Enid had decided to do and Beth knew how teenagers could be. You try to steer them into something else and they get stubborn and offended and refuse any suggestion you make – whether they know that suggestion is best for them or not.

Beth knew that Enid and Carl had been dating since they were freshmen – a life long relationship as far as high school standards were concerned. And Carl was the son of Rick Grimes – and the high school's principal, Lori – and Rick was a Sheriff in their county. Carl has already talked with Beth about his plans. He was going to Georgia, majoring in sociology, and then after graduation, he was going to the police academy so he could follow in his dad's footsteps.

And Beth thought that that was absolutely perfect for Carl.

But what was perfect for Carl might not be perfect for Enid.

Beth was still thinking about it after the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day and the halls filled with the chatter and shouts of students excited to be out of school for the weekend and ready to watch the first football game of the season. And remembering the football game, Beth felt her own excitement bubble up in her chest. She was going to be watching tonight's game with Daryl and she was eager to be spending more time with him without having to get back to the school within the half hour.

She straightened up her desk and went through the emails she hadn't gotten to in the past couple of hours and there was a knock on her door, her eyes instantly flying up to see that it was Daryl. Over the past week, she had learned that Daryl had sort of his own uniform he wore every day. Nice blue jeans and a button down shirt, the sleeves usually rolled up to his elbows in the warm school. Today, his shirt was blue and Beth couldn't help but admit that it matched his blue eyes incredibly well.

"Hi!" She greeted happily, getting to her feet. "How was the rest of your day?"

Daryl took a step into the office, his eyes quick to look around before settling them on her. He shrugged his shoulders and his hands were in his front jean pockets. "Was a'right. I'm learnin' that tryin' to convince kids that history is important isn't that easy."

Beth smiled. "Well, if anyone can do it, I'm sure it's you."

She swore she saw the tips of his ears turn red at that, but she couldn't be too certain underneath the fluorescent lighting of the office.

"How'd the rest of your day go?" Daryl asked in return.

Beth exhaled a heavy sigh before she could stop herself and Daryl smiled.

"Here you go." Beth took a post-it and quickly wrote her address down. "Kickoff's at seven so you should come by around six-thirty to give us plenty of time." She held the post-it out for him to take.

He did so with a raised eyebrow. "Expectin' a traffic jam on the way there?"

Beth smiled, almost laughing. "Just you wait and see."

…

She knew she could have kept living with her parents on the farm – and they would have loved to have her – but Beth wanted to go out on her own. She had a job and she wanted to have her own place and make it a home for herself. Of course, that was easier said than done since there wasn't an access of housing in Cherry Hill. But she managed to get herself a tiny apartment over the tiny orthodontist office. It was really a loft with walls put up to make a small bedroom in the corner.

Some people would probably find it to be too small, but Beth didn't share their opinion. It wasn't as if she needed all of the space in the world. It was just her and as long as she had enough room for her bed and piano and a little kitchen to make herself dinner every night, that was all she needed.

When a knock came on her door promptly at six-thirty, she did one more quick sweep of the space, making sure that everything was straightened up enough, before hurrying to the door. She gave her reflection a quick glance in the mirror hanging on the wall beside the door – her contacts were in and her hair was up in a ponytail – and then she swung it open. She immediately began laughing.

"Much better," she approved at the green tee-shirt he was wearing and again, she had to do her best to not stare at this man's arm muscles.

Daryl smiled. " Wen' and bought one when I left school," he confessed.

"Living here now, you are going to get plenty of wear out of it," she promised. "Do you want something to drink before we head out?"

"We have time for that?" He asked.

"No," she laughed again and he kept smiling. He took a step back and she stepped into the hallway, closing and locking the door behind her. "Afterwards," she then said, more as an afterthought more than anything, but once the words registered with her, she felt her cheeks blush, hoping he wasn't taking the invitation as an insinuation of him coming back to her place tonight for anything more than drink.

She had never been like this around a guy; this wracked with nerves. People had always liked her because she always seemed to confident with herself. And it was the truth. She had always very much known who she was. But being around Daryl Dixon, she found herself doubting a lot of what she said or did and she wasn't used to that and definitely did not like it.

"I brought my bike if you don't mind ridin' it. Might be easier to park," he said once they had come down the stairs and had stepped onto the sidewalk.

Beth had never ridden on a motorcycle before, but looking at it now parked at the curb, honestly now, it was the only thing she wanted to do.

"Yes, please," she said, not caring how eager she sounded right then.

"Here," he said and went to the bike, pulling a helmet from the side bag. "Don' usually wear one, but I brought one, figurin' you would wanna wear one."

"Not wearing a helmet is incredibly stupid," she matter-of-factly told him as she placed it over her head and fastened it firmly into place and Daryl watched her with a smirk.

He climbed on and then looked to Beth. She felt a nervous flapping in her stomach, but she ignored it as she climbed on behind him, and then her stomach was fluttering, being so close to him now, looking at the muscles of his back and arms through the tee-shirt he wore and feeling the heat radiating off of his body.

Beth could do nothing but scold herself again for the countless time. Plenty of coworkers were capable of being friends even when one had a crush on the other. Is this what this was? A crush? She had just met the man. But it was the only thing that really made any sense to her. Of course it was a crush. The blushing and fluttering, what on earth else could it be if not a crush?

Maybe they should have taken her car.

Daryl started the bike and Beth felt it rumbling beneath her. Without him having to tell her, Beth immediately scooted in closer and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist. There was no way she was going to fall off of this bike. And yet, she knew already that Daryl would never let anything happen to her. She trusted him already and already, she felt safe when she was with him.

When Daryl pulled away from the curb and began heading down the street towards the high school, Beth instantly fell in love with riding on the back of a motorcycle. Not only was she sitting behind Daryl with her arms around his waist, she felt the wind in her face and she honestly felt as if she was flying. She felt completely free.

She nearly shouted in Daryl's ear to keep going because she didn't want this to stop, but he began to slow down and she looked over his shoulder to see that they had arrived. It felt as if they had only left her street just a second before. Maybe they really had flown here.

A police officer was directing traffic and Daryl followed his directions, heading down a row in the football field's parking lot and pulling into the overflow lot, finding a spot between two pickup trucks. He looked over his shoulder and Beth swung her leg over and stood up from the bike as gracefully as possible even though her legs took a moment to gain their strength beneath her once again.

"This is crazy," Daryl muttered as he looked around at the people tail-gating in the parking lot, drinking and cooking out, and people were already streaming past the ticket booth into the fenced-in field, off to get seats for the game. "This is jus' a high school game. People know that, right?" He asked, looking back to her.

Beth smiled and unbuckled the helmet, handing it to him. "I thought you were from around here," she teased.

"I am. But I ain't never really been into football enough to pay attention to the insanity that surrounds it," he said.

"Blasphemy," she laughed a little and Daryl smiled a little down at her.

Stop. Fluttering. She commanded down silently to her stomach.

"Wanna head in?" She asked. "I like to get a soft pretzel or popcorn before the game. And… I usually sit with my family. Is that alright?"

She didn't want to bombard him and put him on the spot and she knew how her family could be. Her daddy would interrogate him – with Maggie joining in – and her mom would start picking out what flowers would work best for a wedding.

Daryl shrugged and if he was nervous, he certainly didn't look like it. "Sounds good."

Of course, what reason was there to be nervous? He was a coworker, about to meet the family of one of his other coworker's. Absolutely no need to be nervous about that. And she felt silly for thinking that he would be or even should be. She was acting and thinking like such an idiot. What the heck was this man doing to her? She was being ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Coworkers hung out together all of the time and when she saw the other teachers and administration inside the fence, she wasn't going to act like she was doing something wrong, because she wasn't. She and Daryl were coworkers and they were hanging out.

She knew the logic was possibly flawed, but maybe, just maybe, the more time she spent around him, her crush for him would fade away. Maybe she wasn't a self-masochist. Maybe, the better she got to know him, she would realize that they would make perfect friends and nothing more because _nothing_ could happen between them anyway past being friends.

"You ready to go in?" Daryl asked, breaking through her thoughts.

Her mind had completely carried her away for a moment and Beth smiled, feeling a little embarrassed about that.

"Yep. Let's get you inside to experience your first Viper game," she said, excitement growing once again and her nerves fading, and she nearly took hold of his hand to pull him towards the ticket booth before she remembered herself.

Beth walked next to Daryl, but made sure that enough space was between them where their arms weren't in danger of even brushing against each other.

…

* * *

 **Daryl's POV picks up right where this chapter left off. As always, thank you for reading and please take a moment to comment!**


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